"If we lose our rice, there is nothing but dacoity before us, ourselves, next winter," said one of the men.
The boat shot ahead, and tried to run athwart the first sledge. The dacoits fired. Had five guns really been able to kill six men? There were five rowers, and Shway Poh steering. Ralph had the sixth oar, and Kirke's gun rang out in response to the attack, but only he and Denham remained steady at their posts. All the Burmans were bowled over. Strange that the dacoits' shots should have hit them all, and missed Kirke's broad figure standing erect in the bows. Did he bear a charmed life?
There was another explanation of the mystery. He who fights and runs away, may always live to fight another day. The six Burmans were all prostrate at the bottom of the boat, and the shots had passed harmlessly above them. Neither had they been taken with very true aim, for all had gone wide of the mark.
A kick from Kirke aroused the man nearest to him.
"Get up, you scoundrel!" thundered the young man. "What are you funking there for? Seize them before they can reload!"
He threw himself out of the boat, which had now crossed the stream, and tore the pole from the hands of one dacoit. Ralph followed, and seized another by the throat, but the fellow's body was thickly besmeared with cocoanut oil, rendering him so slippery that he actually slid through his hands, and Denham's foot slipped, throwing him down.
Up he sprang in an instant, and tried to grasp the fellow's garments; but, with a wriggle and a twist, he was out of the coiled cloth in one moment, leaving it in Ralph's hands, while he stood for the space of a second, free of all impedimenta, then bounded into the jungle.
Ralph gave chase, but had no chance against the lithe limbs of the Burman, well used to such encounters, and almost as supple as a snake. After a short pursuit, he turned back to assist his friends, seeing the undesirability of separating their party into single units.
He found himself needed. Upon the report of firearms, the natives in the other two boats held aloof, and were now returning to the village, towing, however, the rice sledges with them; and the valorous Mr. Golden Grandfather was in the act of stepping into their own, with evident purpose of following in their wake.